Ok, so here’s the deal. I am a complete mess 99.99% of the time, nope, it is literally 110% of the time. But this week especially. Plus while I’m being super honest, the hormones are extra fierce this time of the month which doesn’t help. But someone decided to call me out, which happens quite frequently. Not knowing I was already stressed at work because we had an internal review this week. Or that I had a million things on my mind because of our new foster kid’s school meetings this week. Or that my youth group babies are missing youth group while we, as a church, are in transition right now. Or I am a brand spankin new wife, sorta, almost, well in 43 days. These are all good things I want and love, but each of them have their own stressors too. So, I absolutely did not have time for someone to call me out for things that happened to me over 20 years ago. He kept telling me I “look like I am carrying the blame and responsibility for someone else’s sin.” He said “carrying all that weight of someone else’s guilt and shame must be heavy.” I wanted to scream, well duh. He asked me when I was going to set it all down and finally take care of myself. My brain was sending off distress signals, going: umm, sir, I thought I had. Now I feel exposed, attacked and just generally unstable.
So, naturally, I went reeling for a minute. I ate a bowl of ice cream and drank one fruity Jack Daniels drink. Was it a good decision? No. Did the drink even taste good? Also no. I know good and well that ice cream and a drank drank ain’t gonna fill the God shaped hole. And in that moment, I was feeling pretty poked with holes. But in the sake of being honest, that’s how I handled the rest of the day. So the next day, I did better. I decided what I really needed was time with You, Jesus, but my brain was on overload so I picked a sermon on YouTube. Almost turned it off 3-4 times. I didn’t turn it off though because I have a really good lookin husband (in 43 days, but who’s counting?) sittin on the other end of that couch so I can’t give up. And a sweet little foster kid sleeping down the hall. Because they give me the courage to make better choices. Because they deserve me, at my best, at my healthiest. Not the watered down version, digging herself in a hole. Because they are living breathing reminders that You love me. Even when I mess it all up and reach for the ice cream instead of my bible, You still love me. I can’t change what happened to me over 20 yrs ago and I can’t change how I coped with it yesterday, but You never left me alone and I can turn back to You. Because trauma is real and it happens to everyone. Because I can choose to end it with me. I can choose to do better today. Because You can make our home a place of healing. Because sometimes all it takes is a warm bubble bath and fishing rod in the tub for a little kid to say: “I hope I get to stay this time. I like it here.” Because it will be different here.
So here is what I learned from the sermon by Pastor Brie and Aaron Davis at Transformation Church.
God’s love summons our story. I could say that my story is that I was sexually abused at 8 yrs old which led to other abuse and trauma and PTSD and anxiety. That’s what the person calling me out wanted to hear. That I was broken beyond repair. I could say that I still jump if someone comes at me from behind and I can’t see what they’re doing. I still have a doomsday brain that expects the absolute worst case scenario to happen. I could say I still don’t feel worthy of love sometimes. I could say no matter how much I try to be the good girl and keep everything clean and tidy that I still have blood on my hands. I still have trauma. I still have hurt places. But that is not my story. I went to faith based counseling. And will probably go off and on for the rest of my life. I met with pastors and with other believers. I studied and memorized scripture. I hung scripture on every wall in my house to remind me of Your truth when the lies in my head get too loud. (My husband calls them my post it notes.) I surrendered. I laid it all at the foot of the Cross. You already died to save me. You already paid the cost. My story is so much better than what that other person wanted to write. There is beauty in my story. Your love is written on every page. In my nightmares, You are standing in front of the evil now. You took what the enemy meant to destroy me and turned it into healing. You showed me the way out so I could show others the way out.
God’s love summons our striving. I had gotten real good at trying to earn love or respect or approval. I am a retired people pleaser. I learned that I am never going to receive real love by changing for it and I am most certainly not going to receive love by begging. I no longer use my Christian checklist to measure my worth or if I’m being good enough. I will never be good enough. I will never make amends enough. I will never be able to save myself or anyone else, for that matter. But that’s good news. Because You already love me. You already saved me. You already called me chosen. So, I will keep fighting. Not because I have to earn love, but because You love me too much to leave me sulkin in my sin.
God’s love summons your sanctuary (your hiding place). This one might be what I struggle with the most currently. Because I know exactly how to shrink myself so I don’t take up space. I know how to make myself talk quieter and talk less. I know exactly how not to have an opinion. I know exactly how to be accommodating to everyone else’s needs. I know not to ask too many questions. And I know how to physically hide in the closet and put clothes hampers in front to barricade myself in there. I know how to hide my nose in a book so I can’t bother anyone. I know when I’m being annoying. And I’ve done all of those things and more to hide. But those things don’t actually make me feel safe, they just alert me that something already happening does not feel safe, that I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t make less of myself. But makin myself smaller will not avoid the confrontation.
Our brokenness summons our God. He wants us to bring it to Him. The more my hurt is revealed and the deeper it goes, just shows me how good You are. It was never supposed to be this way. I keep thinking oh, I’m good, I’m finally past this. Then someone comes along and says no ma’am it’s written right across your forehead for everyone to see and it’s spilling into every part of your life. The truth is, it happened and I can’t change that. The truth is, I am probably going to be affected by it in some way, every day, for the rest of my life. The truth is, that brokenness is just a small part in a much bigger story. The truth is, I still have things I need to let go so You can heal. The truth is, there are still mends to relationships that need divine intervention. The truth is, healing is a process and will not be complete on this earth.
So, this is my prayer today. Lord, sometimes, I feel like the wounds are healing and then someone comes by and rips it right back open. But maybe that’s a good thing, because maybe that’ll make sure an infection doesn’t settle in. Maybe the scab just needs to be removed so I can get deeper healing. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t stop the bleeding, there’s nothing I can do to clean it all because it’s just pouring out. But that’s the point. I cannot do this on my own. No amount of cleaning and purifying and being the good girl will take back what happened. I cannot change what happened. I cannot avoid it. I have to name it. I learned that. I learned how to cope with the disassociation and things I used to protect myself. But I think I got a little stuck there, thinking just getting by and surviving was all I could do. Now maybe I need to learn to move forward. Now maybe when good things happen, I can learn to stop looking for the other shoe to drop. Now maybe I can learn to breathe without fear. Now maybe I can learn to quit hiding. Maybe now that I feel safe, maybe I will be able to live knowing I am safe. I pray for peace. I pray for healing. I pray that I can help others. I pray that I point them to you. Lord, help me not to get discouraged when others point out my flaws. Help me to realize they are trying to help, not attack. Thank you that wasn’t the end of my story. Thank you that was just a small part in a much bigger story. Thank you for not letting me quit. Thank you for the courage to keep going. Thank you that healing is a process. Lord, there is so much trauma and it seems like you can’t do it and you can’t possibly help enough. There is so much hurt in this world. This world is broken. Not to mention, I will forever be in the process of healing. How can I possibly help anyone else? The answer is I can’t but You can. Oh my stars, how You can. And as always I pray for my family and sorority sisters. I pray for my university. I pray for guidance for our government, church, and school leaders. I pray for protection for our troops. I pray for all those that need you now and for those that haven’t met you yet. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
southerngirlsprayers 